


Being a Girl

by jendavis



Series: Being a Girl & Medicate [1]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Genderswap, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-08
Updated: 2010-11-08
Packaged: 2017-10-13 03:32:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/132368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jendavis/pseuds/jendavis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for hc_bingo prompt, "Surprise sexswap."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Being a Girl

After the arc crashed into him, Ronon took stock. His clothes weren't feeling right.

Pulling off his shirt to see, it took a moment to understand what he thought he was seeing. It didn't even make sense when it occurred to him.

"I'm a woman."

"Ah. Yeah. I see that," John was staring at him like he was trying to search out the parts of him that were still familiar, and finding it all mixed in with a lot that wasn't. Ronon dodged the hand that moved towards him, and it hung there, mid-air. "So, guess it's time to call Keller out here, huh?"

McKay's voice grumbled up from underneath the console. "You _think_?"

" _Rodney_ ," John warned, before sighing and tilting his head again towards Ronon. "You might want to put your shirt back on, first."

Underneath the console came a loud clanking, and a pained cry, but Ronon didn't have it in him to laugh.

He didn't have any _him_ at all, any more.

\---

Ronon was fairly certain he was dealing well with this.

The breasts were annoying, uncomfortable, but the space where he couldn't feel his genitals filling the space was terrifying, he still didn't even want to look.

His feet were loose in his boots, and the height difference was enough that everyone else looked larger than life. His face felt smooth, just wrong, and since he was barely taller than Teyla, now, it was harder to hide from her concern.

It was easier, though, to let her lead him over to the remains of the crumbling wall on distressingly unsteady legs, though it all evaporated when she seated herself in a way that blocked McKay, John, and the device from his view. Not being able to keep watch was bad enough, but it was Ronon that she was protecting from theirs.

He didn't know whether to be thankful or angry, but mostly, just stared at the ground, and tried to clear his head.

 _John turned into a bug. This isn't the strangest thing that's ever happened._

Yeah. You keep telling yourself that.

\---

"We don't know if it's contagious," Sheppard lied, reporting to Woolsey, shrugging one shoulder as he talked into his radio. "It's just a cough, doesn't seem life-threatening, I'd rather have Keller come out here and check it out."

He ducked his head when Ronon caught him looking. There wasn't a good reason why, he just did. The third time it happened, though, he caught Ronon's _reaction_ to being watched. It wasn't good.

As team leader, it was probably irresponsible to let McKay anywhere near Ronon in this state, all rapid-fire questions and invasive curiosity, but it gave Ronon somewhere else to aim his- _her_ anger. It was going to take Keller a good two hours to get here.

\---

 _It had been John who'd made the first move, the night after they'd discovered Michael's lab in the Taranan settlement, but it never would've happened if Ronon hadn't seemed interested. The first kiss had been easy; the ones that followed in the days after were sometimes more mixed._

They'd both thought about it, but neither of them had planned for it. They'd never been a foregone conclusion. There'd been a lot to work out. Comparisons of histories and attitudes that had led John to believe that Sateda wasn't really all that different from Earth, not in any of the ways that mattered.

He'd wanted to promise Ronon that it wasn't a weakness, and then he'd had to explain that they had to keep it close because there were those who perceived it as one.

It had almost all come crashing down when they'd been in a restaurant back on Earth, and hadn't been able to avoid hearing the joking at the next table, the words "faggot," "man-pussy," and "weak-ass bitch" being tossed conversationally between the teenagers at the next table.

They'd never learned who the words had been meant to hit, but Ronon had caught them in the chest. He'd been curious at first, listening in, then wary and ashamed as the context became clear. The fact that he could've snapped all four teenagers in half one-handed hadn't seemed to help much. Quarantined at Midway, after a mission spent walking on eggshells, Ronon had tried to break up with him.

And even though it hadn't taken, it had been a very close thing.

\---

It got worse, after the first hour, when McKay popped his head up from under the console, took a look around, apparently having forgotten that Teyla wasn't the only woman present.

The look of horror on his face, though, when he realized he'd very nearly started flirting with Ronon, wasn't nearly satisfying enough.

"Just get it _fixed_ , McKay," he'd growled, and even his voice sounded weird.

\---

For propriety's sake, apparently, Keller had insisted that Teyla be the one to assist, once she discovered Ronon's condition. They'd moved deeper into the building, finding a room that still had all its walls standing,

The examination was painless, but excruciating, and proved nothing more than what had already been amazingly clear.

Still uncoordinated, fighting the lower center of gravity, he'd needed Teyla's help to get dressed again. The material chafed in all the wrong places, now, seemingly worse than before.

Keller had a hand up to her radio, clicking it on and deferring to John, and Ronon felt like punching her for asking the same question she'd asked during the exam. "You're sure it was the Ancient device?" _No, this is completely fucking natural_.

"Yeah, there was this blue arc when it initialized, caught him in the shoulder," John responded, sounding annoyed enough that Ronon felt a little bit better. "McKay, here, says he'll have it figured out in an hour or so."

"Well, then I guess the best thing for it is to wait it out," Keller suggested smiling sympathetically down at Ronon again. "As far as everyone back home is concerned, you just caught a cold. I'm advising you to remain here until, well. It passes. No big deal, right?"

 _The Ancients messed with things they had no business toying with, and it's left you here in a body that's not your own, that's balanced all wrong, that's weak. That will get you killed in the next fight you see. Just that you're this thing, now, this girl that people think they need to protect, and you're not entirely sure they're wrong. No big deal_.

Ronon nodded anyway.

\---

Teyla was patient, she'd waited for a long time, even through the exam, but Ronon knew she was cracking even before she spoke.

"How are you feeling?"

Ronon shrugged. "Wrong. Nothing personal, but…" he waved his hand distastefully at himself and grimaced. "This is weird."

"I would imagine I would feel equally alien, were our positions reversed," she said, before falling silent again. It didn't seem like anything that needed acknowledgement, so Ronon kept watching John and McKay.

"No, man. Nothing," John rocked his head back, apparently easing some cramp that was settling in his neck. He glanced in Ronon's direction as he did so, again nearly flinching at the erroneous sight of him, and his gaze turned apologetic. For the third time in an hour.

Ronon didn't want apologies, John's pity, or any of it. Didn't want to listen to the whispering suspicion that John thought Ronon needed them, now, that this version was any weaker than the real one.

\---

John had no idea what would happen if they couldn't fix this, and tried not to think of the stares Ronon would be getting back on Atlantis. He spent most of the afternoon assisting McKay and mentally devising ways to bring it up to Ronon, but his- okay, _her_ , and wasn't that just a fucked thing to have to think- glare was telling everyone besides Teyla to stay the hell away. So John was left guessing.

And from the looks of it, Ronon's thoughts were running along the same lines, and not leading to any good answers, either.

"Okay, try now," McKay said, shaking John from his reverie, but again the initialization failed.

\---

Ronon's hands still couldn't keep themselves from testing, minutely, the new planes and curves of _her_ body, but the explorations never lasted long before coming to abrupt, abortive ends. This wasn't Ronon's body. It belonged to someone who knew how to use it.

Another hour in, and it wasn't looking like McKay was making any progress, and he had long since grown tired of sitting around, useless. It was boring and a little pathetic. Now was as good a time to take Teyla up on her offer, to see what this body was capable of.

It would be convenient to learn how to walk without listing horribly, at the very least.

As they sparred, Ronon found that balance was slowly becoming easier to maintain, but Teyla was pulling her punches, moving slower. It was a little insulting. It was worse that her reasons were sound, but it was easier to ignore his injured pride than it was to point out how annoying her conscientiousness had become. Ronon's aim was as good as it had always been, even if the holster was in constant danger of slipping off his hip, now.

McKay would get the device running to fix this soon enough. He had to wait it out, be patient, and stop being surprised every time his breasts and hips announced themselves. Needed to ignore the nervous feeling in his gut every time John met his eyes. It was distracting, and he needed to focus.

It was easier said than done, though. All of it.

\---

The suns were low in the sky when McKay finally stood, stretching and immediately launching into a litany of back-related complaints. It was Teyla who hissed at him to get to the point.

"Good news is, I've got it working again. The bad news is that the power is totally drained, _but_ , I've managed to interface it with our radio charging station. It's solar."

"The suns are going down," John pointed out.

"Well, we'll just have to come back tomorrow," McKay answered, stopping again to begin packing his tools.

Ronon was too lost in his own head, worrying about what going back to Atlantis might entail, how much worse it could make things, to notice John's grin.

"We're staying the night, McKay. Keller's covering us, we're quarantined. Wouldn't want to get the rest of the city sick, would we?"

"What? It's just Ronon, the rest of us are fine, and-" McKay stopped short, realizing that his arguments were going nowhere when John shoved one of the tents that Keller had brought with her into his hands. "Seriously?"

"Seriously."

\---

They made a fire and sat around it, but Ronon didn't have much of an appetite. Teyla didn't glance in Ronon's direction any more than she normally did, but the staring was likely to land McKay in the infirmary if he didn't let up, and John's eyes darted away whenever Ronon caught him looking.

Teyla filled the space, telling a story about an Athosian trading expedition that had gone awry, which would've probably been hilarious if Ronon had any sense of humor left. It was hard to laugh when he hated the way it resonated, all wrong, and it seemed to be nearly as unsettling for the others.

John remained mostly quiet, even after they ate, and Ronon was guiltily relieved when it was decided that night watch duties would be split three ways instead of four, at least up until it was decided that John's would come last.

It meant that they'd be alone in the tent for several hours, before John left for his rounds.

Which meant that McKay's teasing, as he passed by to make his first sweep of the perimeter, couldn't have come at a more awkward time.

"Remember," he joked, watching John follow Ronon into the tent. "No testing the shiny new girl parts, Ronon could get pregnant."

John's pause, when he heard the words, was troubling, and the fact that it took him so long to come up with a retort helped not at all.

\---

John zipped the tent shut, and it was just the two of them, but John's eyes on him, even though the near darkness, weighed more than the gaze of thousands, heavy and assessing and tense.

He'd been married, once, Ronon remembered. He'd slept with women, they both had, and in the dark, with McKay's words hanging over them, it was impossible to be sure that John wasn't considering trying it again, that he hadn't decided that this was the invitation for some new and exciting experimentation.

Ronon, though not usually the jealous type, didn't like the idea of John sleeping with bodies that weren't his, and now his own body wasn't even his. Hers. Whatever. Crawling into the sleeping bag, relieved for the cover it provided, he hid himself away, deliberately.

"How're you doing?" John eventually asked, sitting on top of the other sleeping bag, the space between them far more distant than usual.

Ronon shrugged. An eternity passed, until John cleared his throat, and Ronon knew he was being fucked up about all this, but his body was revolting under his own hands. He had no idea what it would feel like under John's, and the prospect of _explaining_ it was even worse.

"Look, ah. Just. So we're clear. I'm not going to be sleeping with you until this is sorted out. Nothing personal, and I still love you, but it's freaking me the hell out, okay?" There came the rustling of nylon as he made himself comfortable in his own island of bedding, and then nothing. Maybe he was asleep, Ronon couldn't hear his breathing from over here.

It was a relief, mostly.

Part of him still wished he'd moved closer.

\---

By midday, the device was charged, and McKay zapped Ronon back to normal. No big deal.

John would've thought Ronon would've been happier about it, though.

Something was still up.

\---

By nightfall, back in the city, the concern was starting to outweigh John's irritation. After being released form the infirmary half an hour after coming home, Ronon _still_ hadn't emerged from his room, not to eat, not to spar, and he'd skipped the debriefing, not that he blamed him. John had stopped by twice, already, but it wasn't until the third time that the city decided to open the door for him.

He found Ronon sitting on the bed, his back against the wall, naked and while this was normally something John considered a _very_ good sign, right now, with his eyes distant and cold like that, it was worrying.

"Hey," he said. Ronon apparently hadn't even noticed him entering the goddamned room. "How're you doing?"

"Awesome," came the numb response, but at least Ronon was looking at him, even if he was making no move to cover himself. John had no idea at fucking _all_ what he was supposed to say to that.

He figured, though, that going over there might be a good way to start. Acutely aware of Ronon's mood, he sat down at the foot of the bed, not wanting to crowd him too much. Ronon's snort when he did so did not go unnoticed.

"So, ah. What've you been up to?" he tried, inwardly cringing at how awkward and patronizing it sounded, but Ronon was coming out of it now, forcing himself to blink, jerking his head up to look at him.

"Just wanted to be sure, you know?"

"Of what?"

"That I wasn't going to change back." He shrugged. "I know McKay said it was permanent, and all, but…"

"Convinced yourself yet?"

Ronon's grin was self-depreciating as he looked down at himself. "Think so." Turning again to John, he reached his hand out. "You _can_ come up here, you know. Promise I'll try not to freak out."

John did as he was instructed, crawling up until he was seated next to Ronon, joining them from shoulder to hip to leg. On impulse, he turned to press a quick kiss against Ronon's shoulder as he settled.

"So, I mean, I was being Rodney's assistant all this time, what did I miss? What was it like?"

Ronon shook his head. "Sucked. Being small, unbalanced." _Weak_ , he didn't say, and John was careful not to supply it.

"Hey, _I'm_ small and unbalanced." He could feel Ronon relaxing, next to him, a little of the tension leaving his body.

"Yeah, but you've had years to get used to it."

"True." In the grand scheme of things, especially this week, it wasn't particularly girly of him to pick up Ronon's hand from where it rested on his thigh. He wondered, for a minute, what Ronon's female hands would've felt like, if they'd feel fragile in his grasp. It was a little strange to not know. "Hey, look. Sorry I haven't been around much today."

"Don't," Ronon warned, but he let John continue his examination of his hand. "I mean. Sorry I didn't answer the door."

\---

It was nice, sitting here like this. John's body was warm, next to him, and he could feel John's knuckles dragging idly up and down along his side. Pretty soon, he'd come up with the next question, it was obvious that he still had some, but for now, John was quiet.

On the desk, past the foot of the bed, Ronon could see both of them in the reflection of the darkened screen. John was staring at the same reflection, but his gaze was a little lower, staring at Ronon's chest, lost in thought. He probably didn't even know he was staring. Ronon's body wasn't anything he wasn't used to seeing. Ronon, though, was developing a new appreciation for it.

Eventually, John figured out what he wanted to say next.

"So. You've been hanging out like this all day?" His voice was amused, and his eyes met Ronon's through the reflection. Ronon saw himself smiling.

"Pretty much."

"Nice view." The stroking drifted lower, this time, down toward his hip, across, just a little. Ronon's body had learned that touch a long time ago.

 _Could be nicer_ , he didn't say, when John repeated the movement. His body was already answering for him. 


End file.
